Pen and Paper
by Carmabaeji - Lively Aria
Summary: Sam gets a letter from the past


Pen and Paper  
  
by Aria  
  
Rating: Same as the show.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did then I would be a hell of a lot richer. No one's paying me to write this, so I'm not making any profit from writing it...why am I doing this then?  
  
Spoilers: None really.  
  
Synopsis: Carter gets a letter from the past.  
  
  
  
-*-*-  
  
"I'm coming." moaned Sam Carter, biting into her toast, and running to the front door. Tuesday morning, and she was already late, now she had to deal with whoever was at the door too. She quickly checked her face and hair were at least suitable in the corridor mirror, before opening the door to see a well dressed businessman.  
  
"Samantha Carter?" the man asked, his elocution lessons showing.  
  
"Yes," she nodded, swallowing her mouthful of toast.  
  
He extended a hand, and Carter had to let go of the door to shake it, "My name is Gregory Hanrahan, I'm a lawyer from Bainst and Farrell, we handled your mother's affairs."  
  
She was shocked, what more could they possibly have to talk to her about, her mother hand died twenty years ago, and she'd been too young to remember most of the lawyers, cops and sympathisers who visited the house. She was dumbstruck, and also unconsciously aware of the time ticking by before she was supposed to get to work.  
  
"What can I do for you?" she eventually mumbled.  
  
The lawyer, Hanrahan coughed, and straightened his tie. "May I come in, I have a few matters to discuss with you."  
  
Sam moved aside to let him in, and then shut the door behind them. "You'll have to excuse me, but I'm getting late for work. What can I do for you?" she asked, gobbling up the last piece of her toast, and leading him into the kitchen.  
  
"I'll be quick, not long after your mother's passing, we expanded our offices and unfortunately some documents were stolen during the move..." he didn't stop for a second, whilst he pushed his briefcase onto the bar, and flipped in open. "They have recently been recovered, and so we are attempting to organise the documents." He held a thick envelope towards her which she took. "This was supposed to be sent to you on your eighteenth birthday, regardless of your mother's status - we had another for your brother."  
  
Sam nodded, almost numb. She had never expected this. She turned the letter over in her hands, she had brushed the crumbs off of them before accepting it, the envelope was thick, creamy coloured paper, and the back was sealed with a large red wax seal, there was a symbol branded into the seal that she didn't recognise, and her name was written in large calligraphed letters across the front.  
  
"My mother wrote this." she muttered, and the pretensious lawyer nodded. Sam was still turning the letter dumbstruck, when he continued:  
  
"Please accept our apologies for the mishap," he watched Sam for a moment, and cleared his throat to get her attention, she snapped her head up. "I'll leave you some privacy so you can read it."  
  
"Yes of course," she muttered, shock forming the slow syllables in her mouth, "I'll show you out." Sam lead him to the door, and opened it for him.  
  
"Goodbye, Miss Carter." he said, before stepping out of the door and walking down the steps, it was good that he didn't look back, because he would have been confused by her standing in the doorway, looking like a lost child.  
  
-*-*-  
  
The drive to work was mainly biting back tears, until the crossing at pendulum avenue, when she burst into tears. The rest of the drive was spent sniffing and watching the road through a gel of saline. The letter sat on her passenger seat, behind her warm winter coat so that it didn't slide off when she broke. After Hanrahan had left she hadn't done much, she had put on her normal makeup, minus any eye makeup, she'd felt teary at the time, and hadn't wanted to risk it. She'd cleaned the kitchen, placing dishes in the sink ready for later, when she had noticed she was nearly fifteen minutes late, and unless she could invent instantaneous travel, she would have been even later.  
  
She arrived at the gate to Cheyenne mountain and clawed at her eyes, rubbing the tears into her cheeks, where hopefully they would dry faster. She reached across the seat, and into her jacket pocket for her military id, although she rarely needed it, most of the guardsmen knew her by sight. As it turned out this one did, and just as she pulled it out of the jacket, the car in front drove away, and the guardsman nodded to his colleagues to keep the gate up for her.  
  
Sam waved as she drove through, and headed up the road to the parking garage for the first five SG teams.  
  
-*-*-  
  
Sam placed the letter on the countertop in her lab. She had some work to do - testing the electrical properties of some new elements, experiments that were only slightly more technically advanced than a children's science experiment, and then the report on it...or she could open the letter. She sat on the desk staring at the letter. Her hands were clamped over her mouth, tears brimming her eyes, she let out the occasional whimper when she choked them back, until eventually she got up to shut the doors, shutting each one after briefly checking the corridor for people walking past who were likely to need to talk to her. Other than a nod or a nervous smile (Siler) she didn't see anyone, and shut each door in it's turn, slowly she walked back to the bench and perched on her stool, picking up the letter with both hands and cutting the red seal with a quick slice of a screwdriver. She paused for a minute with the open letter in her hands, thinking about folding it up again, before she opened the papers, separating them and making a note of the number before she even thought about reaned .  
  
There was no address in the corner of the paper, just the date, October 23rd 1964. Her mother's script was beautiful, the letters where softly curved, and the black ink stood out against the paper. Sam began crying again before she'd even rean the beginning of the text. She didn't bother moping up the tears, and heln the paper away a little, she didn't want to smear the ink, which was one small part of what she had left of her mother.  
  
"My dearest child,  
  
I went to the doctor last week for a blood test - by the time you read this, you'll be old enough to understand, I'd missed a period and wasn't feeling too good. You know what your father's like - he instantly wanted me to go see a doctor, and get checked out. So, I went, and had a blood test and this morning I went back for the results. I'm pregnant.  
  
That's you I'm talking about there - my little baby, you have no idea how happy I am, I wonder what you are like, I don't know anything about you yet, what you're going to be like. At the same time I'm also so worried. What type of parents are we going to be for you. People always say that you do worse with your first child, that you have to perfect your method for your second. I just want you to know - I'm worried about that, and I will never ever 'test' anything out on you.  
  
I love you so much, even though you're the size of a peanut right now, I love you.  
  
Marion Carter."  
  
Sam smiled, whilst the tears brimmed up her eyes, and she paused to move to the second page. The address was simply Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, and it was dated March 1st, 1965.  
  
"My baby girl,  
  
You are due in two months and couple of days, and I'm so nervous - not to mention terrified of labour. My midwife, Lucie, is scaring me with stories about childbirth, she's taking me to Lamaze class at the moment.  
  
Your father is away, somewhere in the middle east - he can't tell me where, but he got hurt, and is in a field hospital right now. I'm worried sick - but he says he's fine, he's just broken a leg. Just! I get a letter from him every week, these huge long ones, that he must contribute to every day. It's either a list of his name suggestions, complete with nick names for each one - among his favourites is Phillipa, or Philip - an English name that belonged to a british doctor who did a short tour at his hospital, or it's about his day usually every detail of every conversation he had, at the moment it's about his nurse, he says that if it weren't for the letters to us, and her, he'd have gone nuts long ago. I keep telling him he did go insane quite while ago.  
  
If I wasn't sure I was pregnant from the countdown I get from Lucie, or the regular bathroom trips, the state of our spare room or the size of me, I had to stop teaching yesterday. My classes were so upset, I've agreed to tutor anyone who needs any help, and last night I opened my door at three o'clock to have most of my seniors and advanced juniors walk through my door with pizzas, cakes, bottles upon bottles of juice and their textbooks. We ended up sitting in the garden for a hour and a half whilst I taught them their last week worth of math lessons. They don't like their new math teacher, and apparently he's a terrible teacher. I'm so worried for them, I wish I wasn't leaving so soon before their exams. They capped off their 'lesson' by giving me a bouquet of chrysanthemums, and a card, which must have been signed by all my students at school. I only just finished reading the messages today. They are all coming back next week. I'm hope I'm back at work by the time you read this - I really love teaching, and I miss my students.  
  
Before he left your father kept asking me to find out what sex you were. We weren't routing either way, it just helps narrow down names. I found out this morning, I haven't told your father yet, but my ob-gyn says you're either a girl or extremely shy boy - let's hope it's the former otherwise you're probably quite confused now. I haven't even thought of a single name for you yet, I'm quite content to talk to my bulge and not give you a name yet.  
  
I love you my baby girl.  
  
Marion Carter."  
  
Without even pausing to check around, or to wipe her face she continued, her tears were beginning to stop now, and her previous sad emotions were replaced by the simple joy of having a connection to her mother again. The final page was dated May 23rd, 1965 - a day after Sam was born.  
  
"Baby love,  
  
You're sitting in the crib next to bed, sleeping like, well, a baby. Your father is too, he's curled up on the sofa, hugging one of his crutches, and the other is sticking up in the air, it's really quite odd looking. I'm beyond exhaustion, my labour started at one am yesterday morning and you were finally born at one o'clock in the afternoon. I think I dozed off for half an hour last night, but that's it - I haven't seen the inside of my eyelids in ages. I don't want to sleep either. I feel so content just watching you. The nurses keep telling me to get sleep whilst I can, but it just won't come.  
  
Did you know the you spend most of your waking time with your hands in the air, just grasping anything that floats past. Most of them time you fix your puffy little blue eyes onto what ever it is and move it about, and then if it passes the test, it goes into your mouth. You're so inquisitive, Sammy.  
  
That's your name now, Samantha, it wasn't on any of you father's lists, but yesterday, in between contractions your father was trying to soothe me with jokes that his nurse had told him. Her name was Samantha - and with all that she's done for our little family - I just decided then and there that would be your name - and we both think it's a beautiful name for a beautiful baby girl. You've got blue eyes, a pretty big head, but all babies do! You've only got your eyelashes and two short strands of hair, but we think it'll be blonde or light brown.  
  
Your dad reckons you'll be a brainiac, whilst I was pregnant and bored I recited almost every mathematical constant or formulae that I know, pi - 3.14159265358979323564, Planck's 6.6261 by ten to the minus 34 jouleseconds, the mass of a proton, and an electron, 1.7 by ten to the... Anyway, you get the drift - he keeps saying he'll have to teach you to stand up for yourself or you'll get called a geek. But he says it's fine by him, because he married me because he wanted smart children - he has to be careful with me now, I'm still quite big, and I don't have the pregnancy excuse anymore.  
  
Your dad left me for about a hour after you were born, he proudly came back and announced he'd set you up a college fund! Men think about the strangest things. Anyway, Sammie, baby love - I can't help but wonder what's going on with you when you read this. You'll be 18, getting ready for college, dating, menstruating (dear God! don't be pregnant - I don't know if I could handle this again, I'm never going to wish pregnancy on any other woman, ever) and you can drive, smoke, get married, do anything you want, all with your blonde hair and blue eyes. I don't know anything about you yet, except that you're going to college!  
  
Truth is that when I was 18, my mom didn't know much about my life either, so now that you've read this, come and talk to me - give me a hug my little Sammie. I miss you every second I'm with you, and when I hug you I don't want to put you down. I hope I do a good job with my baby girl. Happy 18th Birthday honey. I'm now going to take you home to your hideously painted baby room. If I can wake your father up.  
  
I'll always love you.  
  
Marion Carter."  
  
In her lab Sam let out a huge wail, and rested her head into her hands, tears flew out of her eyes and over flowed in her hands, eventually streaking their way down her forearms to pool on her desk. "Mommy," she whispered quietly, to herself, and wanted more than anything to have her there.  
  
For a moment Sam wondered what it would have been like to get the letter on her 18th birthday - the lawyer, she imagined the same one, would hand it to her, and she would thank him and leave him on the doorstep. Sam would take the letter into the kitchen, grab a cookie and open it up, reading whilst she stuffed chocolate and dough into her mouth. She'd smile at her mother's soppyness, and she'd take another cookie, but despite herself, she's sit there reading it until she had to beat up her brother again, or her mother came home. She give her mom a huge hug as she came through the door, take her books off of her, and thank her for the letter. Her mom would ask her if she could read it, she can't remember much about herself so long ago, and then ........  
  
When Sam was 18 her mother had been dead for nearly six years, her father and brother hated each other, and her dad had been off on assignment on her birthday. Sam had had school that day, and had skipped it to see her boyfriend, they'd had sex, his idea of the perfect gift, and Sam had been back in time to cook her brother dinner. Mark had spent nearly an hour whining about his day at school, and then she'd helped him with his math homework. A lieutenant had come by with a letter and card from Dad, and a promise he'd be home again in a month. Mark hadn't even apologised for forgetting, he just moaned about his father, things Jacob would have smacked him for, if he hadn't have felt he deserved them, and then he sat and watched some television. Sam had turned the stereo on in her room, and gone to sleep listening to a mixture of Deep Purple and Tracey Chapman. The letter didn't come that day, but Sam imagined her mother, throwing her a birthday party and such, possibly even leaving the house so they could have a good time, maybe her mother would take her shopping, and they'd buy a dress for the prom, and talk about her finals.  
  
She was lost in reverie when Sgt Siler knocked on her door, "Major Carter." he began, he didn't open it, he just yelled through the metal, "I have those lab reports on the ..."  
  
"I'll look at them later, Siler." she yelled back to him.  
  
"Okay, Major." he yelled back, and she listened to very faint receding footsteps.  
  
Dad was off world, but Mark was in San Diego, and taking in the time difference, she could call him, and probably catch him before work. She practically sprinted to the phone that was latched on to the other side of the wall, and grabbed the handset. Her brothers phone number was indelled into her memory, like so many numbers, constants and acronyms and she dialed his number in San Diego.  
  
The receiver clicked as it was picked up, and a high pitched voice was heard on the other end, "I'll get it!" was screamed past the receiver, presumably to a parent or sibling, before "Hello." was said calmly into the receiver.  
  
"Hello, Marion," Carter instantly recognised the squeaky voice as her little niece, "It's Auntie Sam, is your dad around anywhere?" she asked, adopting a singsong voice that she used on her brothers kids.  
  
"Hang on, I'll check." she said, Sam then winced as she heard the seven year old scream "Daaadddyyy!" loud enough to be heard through out the lab and California state.  
  
"He's coming," she said, and a couple of seconds later she heard her brother's voice, "what on earth is it Mare?" The little girl told her father it was her auntie, and then he sent her off to finish her breakfast.  
  
"Hey, Sam, how are you?" he asked, when he got on the phone.  
  
"I'm a little shocked at the moment, Mark, I just got a letter from mom." she said, hoping her brother would realise what she meant.  
  
"Yeah, that Hanrahan guy came and gave me mine yesterday - it's a hell of a shell shock, isn't it? I never expected anything like that - took yesterday off of work and mulled it over."  
  
Sam laughed a bit, wiping at her tears, "Wish I had that luxury." she muttered.  
  
"Mmm," she could almost hear her brother's smile, "what time is it there, ten o'clock? You on base at the moment?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. What was yours like?" she asked, looking over at the letter on the desk.  
  
"Well I got two, one from the day she found out she was pregnant, and another that was obviously written on the day I was born, describing how painful contractions are, and then how happy she was to see me. There's a bit about you, apparently Dad tried telling you the stork story when mom got pregnant and you ran around scaring the birds away. Eventually they told you an edited version of the truth, and you were really upset." Sam laughed, and imagined a blonde nondescript child she'd once seem chasing birds away in the park. She inserted photos of her young father and mother into the image and sighed.  
  
"What about yours?" her brother asked, snapping her from her reverie.  
  
"I..uh, same idea as yours, one on the day she found out, another a couple of months before I was born, dad was away at the time and she must have been lonely - and then one the day I was born."  
  
"Hmmm." said her brother, intending to urge her on, but actually creating a contemplative silence that both of them needed. Sam eventually sighed and broke it, "I guess what hit me the most was the times she's written 'I love you' I guess it was something I never expected to have her communicate to me again."  
  
She could sense her brother nodding on the phone. "It's one of those things I don't really remember, I mean I know she did, but I don't have a memory of her saying it - I guess I was what? Nine? At the time, but I remember picnics, and cookies, and songs, but not her actually saying she loved me, and when I was reading it, I guess I could piece it together, almost hear it in my head."  
  
"You have the memory, Mark, you just don't know you do."  
  
"It's nice to think that; that I have all these memories of mom that will just surface one day." Mark admitted, Sam agreed, slowly muttering what a nice thought it was, "There were other things about the letter that I liked too."  
  
"I agree with you, but what in particular?" Sam encouraged, her brother followed on.  
  
"The way she expresses herself, she's so happy, so open. Her handwriting, neat, and curvy. I just liked having something of mom I guess."  
  
"She was so idealistic." Sam added.  
  
"So smart, and helpful." Mark muttered.  
  
"So pretty." Sam's turn again.  
  
"Dad and I are right you know, if you had slightly longer hair, you would be a spitting image of her." Mark told his sister. "The only difference is the eye colour...you should come and see us, Marion looks surprisingly like you - if Susan hadn't crushed my hand to death on the day, I wouldn't be sure she was her mother."  
  
"Marion looks like mom?" Sam asked, wouldn't that be odd, Marion Carter the first and second looking the same.  
  
"Yeah, we should arrange a visit sometime, Sam." he suggested, "Bring a friend, a boyfriend, or even dad if you can get hold of him - I'm sure he'd like to see them too."  
  
"I'll see what we can do, Mark."  
  
"I'd better go, Sammie, I'm going to be late for work." he said, apologetically.  
  
"Yeah, Bye Mark." she said suddenly feeling sad again.  
  
"Mom and I love you, Sam." he said, down the phone line - both shocking and touching his sister at the same time, "We love you too, Mark." she replied, "I'll come and see you as soon as I can, give my love to the kids."  
  
"Will do."  
  
"Bye."  
  
"Bye-bye."  
  
Sam heard the click as her brother hung up the phone, and then replaced her own receiver in it's cradle. A few more tears slipped from her eyes before she wiped them again, and she turned and settled back to work. 


End file.
